(Continued from page 135.)

Without allowing himself to hesitate a second, Alan sprang, as he hoped, noiselessly forward, seized the box, which was far lighter than he had imagined it would be, and ran towards the steps to the Smuggler's Hole. Unfortunately for him, the loose stones rattled and scattered under his flying feet, and the men were after him. For a time he managed to keep well ahead, though he could feel he was not increasing the distance between himself and his pursuers. He had excellent training, a natural fleetness of foot, and a light wiry build in his favour; but the enemy had longer legs, and a perfect acquaintance with the cave and steps. It was too dark for recognition, and neither of the men was likely to be very scrupulous should they succeed in catching him.

Up the steps dashed Alan, his breath coming in gasps, and the real difficulties of his enterprise dawning on him for the first time. It had been begun in a spirit of amusement, but it bid fair to end in something very different. But Alan would not drop the precious box. It was a matter of honour now to save it at all costs. What it contained he could not imagine, and he had no time for thinking. He could already hear the panting of the man who had followed closest on his tracks; he was even struck by one of the flying pebbles sent whirling away by his heavy feet. He himself was getting spent. The steps were surely steeper than they had ever been before. He had thought nothing of them the other day, when he and Marjorie were here exploring! Could it have been only the other day? It seemed ages ago. Now he was trying vainly to struggle up to level ground, to the friendly shelter of the Wilderness, and home.

He had come to the turn, and in his relief that the greater part of the steps had been scaled, he sprang forward with renewed hope. The momentary carelessness cost him dear. He stumbled and fell. The box was shot out of his hand by a blow from a projecting angle, and as he spun along the rocky ground, he suddenly felt himself falling, falling, till he came a heavy thud on a soft, sandy floor.

He lay still for a while to collect his senses. Then the keen sting of disappointment prevented him from realising his position. The box was gone! All his labour had been thrown away! Whatever it contained was at the mercy of the men. They had no one to prevent their carrying it off beyond hope of saving. Oh, what a fool he had been! And he had been priding himself on keeping ahead of them!

He could not get over his anger.

He was not badly hurt, however, and it was time to see where his folly had landed him. The prospect was not cheering. He was lying in a 'round hole,' as he called it afterwards, with a sandy bottom, while all around him the mighty rocks towered to immense heights. A strip of sky was just visible, and a star or two glimmered in the blue. He knew that stars could be seen sometimes, even in daylight, from great depths, but the remembrance of this was by no means comforting. Was he, then, at the bottom of a deep, narrow shaft? If so, how was he to get out again? Not a soul, except perhaps Thomas, knew of its existence, and Thomas was not in the least likely to betray his knowledge. In all probability, too, the men had fled with his box, and would be heard of no more, since they were now aware that their doings were known to at least one person.

For some moments Alan felt appalled as he glanced again at the height of his prison walls. The full force of his position came over him.

'Marjorie will give the alarm,' he thought, dismally, 'but they will never know where to look for me. If I'm to get out, it must be by my own efforts.'

He felt very unequal to the task of climbing those grim precipices, frowning so blackly down on him; but the daylight would soon be on the wane, and no time could be lost in vain regrets. Rousing himself, he got up, but found he had not escaped without some severe bruises, which would prove serious drawbacks to an awkward climb. It was miraculous that he had not met with worse injuries from so great a fall; only the soft sand and the smoothness of the walls had saved him. But this same smoothness was the chief hindrance to his escape. There was not a loophole of any sort or kind by which he could raise himself—not a twig or ledge to give him a hold. With increasing anxiety he scanned the walls still more closely, but, even though his eyes had become accustomed to the gloom, it was too dark to make out a single projecting edge, or the minutest crevice which could raise his hopes of escape. In despair, and with a sickening sense of dread, he sank down again on the sand. If Thomas had wished to put him out of the way, he could not have done so more completely, thought the boy, with bitterness.

CHAPTER VIII.

As time went on and Alan did not return, Marjorie stood up to listen, wondering what she ought to do. Should she wait, or go at once in search of him? Before she had made up her mind, however, her hesitation was brought to an end by a violent bang—a sound she knew only too well. Springing up the bank, she made her way as rapidly as the brushwood allowed to the ruin, remembering with dismay that Estelle and Georgie had been on the roof. When she got there, no one was to be seen. Georgie had gone away, very deeply hurt that Estelle should have left him in his sleep, from which he had been startled by the crash of the closing door. It was some time before Marjorie found him—safe, though resentful—sitting on a heap of swept-up leaves in the carriage-drive, talking to one of the gardeners.

She was in too great a hurry to listen to her little brother's complaints, and only stopped a moment to ask where Estelle was.

'Gone home, I suppose,' returned Georgie, not in the most gentle of voices. 'Didn't I tell you she was nowhere to be seen when I woke up?'

'If it was anybody else but Estelle, I should be afraid of her being shut into the ruin, as the door must have been open; but she never disobeys. So it's all right, and I must rush after Alan.'

Off she went at the top of her speed. She could get to the Smugglers' Hole more quickly if she ran round by the path to the cliffs. Without reasoning over it, she understood instinctively that the men would go there, and Alan after them. With the fleetness of a lapwing, she flew along the path through the Wilderness, and reached the cliff as the first flush of sunset was beginning to crimson the western sky. Like a ghostly ship, the vessel they had seen that morning glided across the red rippling path of light, the tapering masts dark against the evening glow, while above it white gulls were winging in circles. So beautiful was the scene that she paused, and, as she gazed, she saw a tiny boat leave the ship's side and draw towards the shore. For the moment Alan was forgotten. Watching the little dinghy, her mind became full of the idea suggested by her brother. Was Thomas really going to carry his stolen goods beyond seas?

(Continued on page 146.)